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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25722214">i saw the best minds of my generation (destroyed by madness)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolvesandwerewolves/pseuds/Wolvesandwerewolves'>Wolvesandwerewolves</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>I’m With You in Rockland [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Umbrella Academy (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Hallucinations, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Schizophrenia, Schizophrenia/Schizoaffective Disorder</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 11:09:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,566</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25722214</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolvesandwerewolves/pseuds/Wolvesandwerewolves</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Klaus doesn’t realize until after Ben dies that maybe their father lied to him. Them.</p><p>Not season two compliant because I haven’t seen season two yet :(</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ben Hargreeves &amp; Klaus Hargreeves, Klaus Hargreeves &amp; Vanya Hargreeves</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>I’m With You in Rockland [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1865728</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>316</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>i saw the best minds of my generation (destroyed by madness)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Honestly just posting this bc I have no impulse control</p><p>Rating is teen and up for current and future references to self harm, suicidal tendencies and possible gore</p><p>Title comes from the poem Howl by Allen Ginsberg</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Klaus doesn’t realize until after Ben dies that maybe their father lied to them.</p><p></p><div>
  <p>He goes to the funeral dressed in the most normal, boring clothes he has, black jeans and a black t-shirt he borrowed from Vanya, a long coat he stole from a woman he doesn’t remember sleeping with. He doesn’t bother wearing shoes, even in the cold, and he pretends not to notice his sibling’s disappointing or judgmental stares at him.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>His father doesn’t even look at him.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>But Ben keeps glancing at him curiously. Or at least, the hallucination that looks like Ben is frowning at him, his head cocked and arms crossed. He’s talking, complaining about the statue, and the weather, and the service. Klaus lets the words wash over him, background noise to every other voice floating around him.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Ben isn’t here.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Vanya grips his hand tighter, and he wasn’t paying attention but he thinks it’s something Luther says, or maybe something Dad says. He doesn’t know what, but her grip is tight enough to make his palm itch. He only got the tattoos two days ago. </p>
</div><div>
  <p><em>Hello</em> on one hand, <em>Good-bye</em> on the other. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He feels so out of place. Klaus isn’t even sure why they were invited. It’s not like he or Vanya were close with any of them. They grew up together, and alone, pushed off to the side as the only ones without powers. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>But that’s okay. Klaus doesn’t need powers. He doesn’t want them. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Eventually, the service starts to fizzle out. The eulogies his siblings gave that he hadn’t paid attention to finish, and beside him Ben sighs. Klaus sighs back, and notices his frown. His brother is staring at him. He takes a slight step away from the hallucination, leans his shoulder against his sister. He can’t acknowledge Ben. He isn’t here. He can’t cause a scene. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>No one really likes it when he shows symptoms of his mental illness, anyway. It’s okay if he has schizophrenia/schizoaffective disorder, it’s okay if he sometimes can’t tell reality from delusions, it’s okay if he hears voices sometimes telling him to kill himself—as long he’s quiet about it. As long as he acts ‘normal.’</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Ableist assholes.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Come on,” Vanya says quietly. She tugs on his arm, digs the keys out of her coat pocket with her other hand. “We should go.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Not going to stay for the after party?” Ben says, sarcastic and sad all at once. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Not going to stay for the after party?” Klaus parrots. Beside him, Ben stills, and Alison shoots him a tearful glare. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“It’s not a party,” Vanya says. She doesn’t look uncomfortable that he asked. Everyone is staring at him, faces full of hurt and anger, and Ben looks shocked. Vanya is patient. “It’s a . . . service.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“I knew it,” Ben says.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Most people don’t celebrate after their brother dies,” Luther says. He’s tall, standing next to Alison and Diego, a small group away from him and Vanya. Ben is in the middle, closing the gap between them but he takes a step forward, joining their own little group. Like he’s leaving One, and Two and Three behind. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He’s dead, Klaus reminds himself. He’s not here. He left them all behind.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Ben steps directly in front of him, arms hovering over Klaus’s shoulders but not touching. He’s staring him directly in the eyes. “You can see me.” </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Klaus looks away. He stares down the statue of Ben instead. Immortalized, he’s wearing the Academy Uniform they wore as children, even though Ben died when he was twenty-two, and even though the Ben in front of him is wearing a leather jacket and jeans. He feels like crying, but instead a laugh bubbles up out of his throat. “It wasn’t my suggestion.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Vanya squeezes his hand. He squeezes back. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“It was mine,” Ben says. “It was a joke.” </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“I thought you were on medication,” Diego says.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Klaus tears his eyes away from the statue, away from Ben who keeps moving to his line of sight. Diego is causally tossing a knife up and down, catching it in one hand, and it’s not a warning even if it sounds like an accusation, because he’s sure Diego throws knives all the time. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He’s wearing an outfit eerily similar to Ben’s. Maybe they shared clothes like he and Vanya do. Maybe he’ll ask the hallucination later.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“I am,” Klaus says. “It was a joke.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“It wasn’t funny,” Alison says. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“We’re sorry,” Vanya says, and she never apologizes for him. “Come on, Klaus. I’ve got rehearsal, later. We should go.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>She doesn’t, really. She told him on the car ride over she took the day off.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Klaus smiles, waves goodbye and reaches for a cigarette in his coat. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Ben raises his eyebrows at him. “Your hand says <em>Hello,”</em> he says. “When did you get tattoos?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Oh, yeah.” He opens his palm, looks down. He lets go of Vanya’s hand, lights the cigarette in his mouth, then waves with his other hand instead, this time. No one looks impressed, or thinks it’s funny, even if it is. Luther narrows his eyes at him. “Oops,” he says. “Thanks.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“You’re welcome,” Ben says. He sounds dazed. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Klaus wonders what it’s like, to be a hallucination. He thinks it almost sounds sort of nice, in an ugly sort of way. Maybe it’s like being dead.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>He grabs hold of Vanya again, takes a deep drag off the cigarette and turns. No one stops them, asks them to stay for a bit longer. No one even says goodbye. Ben trails behind him as they leave, passes through the walls of the mansion and the door of the car. He climbs in the backseat.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>The imposing reflection of the mansion in their rear view mirror shrinks and disappears from sight. He wonders, in the back of his mind, if he’ll see his siblings again some day. Maybe they’ll turn into hallucinations, too.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Klaus inhales deeply, rolls the window down and throws the cigarette on the ground as they drive away.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“You’re not crazy,” Ben says. “You have powers.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Klaus grimaces. He puts two fingers to his temples, rubs small, tight circles to ease his headache and closes his eyes as he slouches in the passenger seat. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“I’m not crazy,” he whispers, annoyed and trying hard not to be. Ben is dead, and it isn’t fair to him to be angry at something a hallucination of him said—even if Ben probably said it when he was alive, too, like the rest of them. But he’s dead now, and the words in his voice are only loud to Klaus.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“No, you’re not,” Ben says, entirely oblivious.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Next to him, Vanya sighs. “Who said that?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Does Vanya know?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Klaus groans. “Shh. No one said it. Ben said it. He’s in the backseat.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Oh.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“So she does know.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Still,” Vanya continues. “You think they’d learn. And we haven’t seen them in a few years, I thought maybe . . .”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“It’s okay,” Klaus says, even if it isn’t. He opens his eyes and yawns, jaw popping on the side he broke as a child. He leans forward, clicks the cassette player on and turns the volume up. Funeral March by Chopin starts to play and Klaus closes his eyes again, humming along. “At least we only see each other at weddings and funerals.” </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Yeah,” Vanya says. “I don’t think we’re going to be invited to any weddings.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>He hums. “Maybe not. I guess funerals are enough.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“I think they’re too much,” Vanya admits. “Poor Ben.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>From the backseat, he hears Ben sigh. He looks over his shoulder, sees him with his hood up, staring out the window. He looks frustrated and upset. And Klaus realizes, although not for the first time, that he doesn’t really know what killed him. There were rumors, theories in the newspapers and whispers on tv—it was suicide, it was an accident, it was murder, it was the Horror. Reginald never mentioned it, and their siblings never said. Ben doesn’t look like most of his other hallucinations, the ones that wander stubbornly into the haze of his mind, with shadowed eyes and blood-cracked lips. He looks normal. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Ben,” he hums, lazily twirling a long strand of hair on his finger, “how did you die?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Ben makes a small, pained noise and then he sighs, sounding resigned. “I don’t know,” he admits. “I don’t really remember anything.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Hm.” Of course, he doesn’t know. Klaus doesn’t know, and so how can a shadow of his mind know anything he doesn’t? The Ben in the backseat isn’t the Ben he grew up with—it’s Klaus himself, wearing a shade of his brother. “That makes sense,” he says. “Do you like waffles?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Ben snorts, and Vanya mutters under her breath—she’s never been a fan of waffles or pancakes. She much prefers muffins in the morning, as long as Klaus and a ghost-like hallucination aren’t the ones making them, adding too much sugar and catching the oven on fire.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Klaus smiles. That was a fun time, even if their landlord hiked up his fees and rent afterwards. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Sure,” Ben says. Right. He’s not Ben, just Klaus. Of course he likes waffles. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Of course you do,” he says, and feels wise for it. “Everyone likes waffles.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“I don’t,” Vanya says. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Klaus ignores her. The fragment of his mind in the backseat is probably a much better conversationalist, anyway. </p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Just an FYI I do intend for Klaus to actually have schizophrenia in this fic...I don’t want to give him a mental illness and then just take it away bc ~superpowers~ (even if he does have powers)</p><p>That being said, if I do continue this fic it will involve a lot of tough things. I’ll try to be as respectful as possible, showing a harsh possible reality of living with mental illness without romanticizing it or making it seem like the worst possible thing. I’ve done a lot of research however I do not have schizophrenia/schizoaffective disorder. Things may not be entirely accurate. :(</p></blockquote></div></div>
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